


The Batman

by Hello_Starlight



Category: Batman - All Media Types, The Batman (Movie 2021)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26254870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Starlight/pseuds/Hello_Starlight
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

The storm outside was harsh. 

Buckets of rain caused the patrons entering the diner to look like drowned rats. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance drowning out the retro juke-box in the corner playing softly. 

As ugly as the weather was you'd rather be outside in the rain then be stuck in this disgusting diner. The men who entered usually loved to give a long look at the waitresses dressed in the short, ugly retro pastel dress you called a uniform. Unidentifiable stains from decades of past workers coated the worn fabric and the apron around your waist was practically a mechanics rag. Some of the other waitresses were strung out and usually too stoned at their job to care. 

Yet most of the people here considered as long as it had a skirt on it was good enough.

You angrily tucked the hair falling into your face behind your ear, a few strands were too short to tuck into your messy bun pulling your hair out of your face. At least the diner was thankfully not quite busy at the moment. If one were to sweep their gaze across the restaurant they could see the occasional cops, random patron, drawn out-faced couples, and drunk homeless man using quarters to pay for a cup of coffee to shelter him a little longer.

You leaned against the bar examining your notes on the note pad. One benefit of your job was at least the enjoyment of eavesdropping on the cops conversations. Usually their conversations were rather boring about their families and their favorite donuts shop to visit. Other times when they talked real low they spoke of crime scenes and evidence. 

Ever since you were little you wanted to be a journalist--reporting to the people of Gotham all the corruption they should know about behind the scenes. 

The mayor's affair. 

Cops being bribed under the table to turn a blind eye to a drug operation. 

The urban legend cult, the "Court of Owls". 

Being a waitress you got to hear gossip from the citizens and occasionally you would bribe the homeless with money if that meant you got eyes on the streets. 

"Yeah, did you hear about this Bat-" 

Ding! Ding! Ding! 

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden ringing noise. 

That damn bell. 

You wished you could just chuck it at the wall from the PTSD that damn chime has caused you. 

"Aye! Girly! Order up!" The cook shouted from his window. 

With an eye roll you flipped your notebook shut. You shoved your pen and pad into your apron pocket before lazily walking over to the window. Gary, the Cook, was an older man with a five o clock shadow and always seemed to wear a greasy, sweaty shirt covered in stains. His belly hung low over his pants from far too many beers you've seen him drink during breaks.

Thick curls of hair came from beneath the collar of his shirt and covered his arms showing he had dark hair before he began balding. A gold chain necklace always hung from his fat neck showing further proof of his New Jersey heritage. He always had this awful cigarette stench to him that he would smoke behind the restaurant during his breaks.

You had to suppress the urge to vomit every time you remembered he was considered a "fellow employee". Your boss, Jared, was his brother, so he had invincibility when it came to him being a complete asshole to others. Your only tolerable work-friend Claire had quit after Gary had put his hand up her skirt but when she told Jared he had no consequences. 

The four hot plates beneath your fingers were incredibly hot burning the tips of your fingers. You were used to it enough that you trained your body not to flinch away from it. Three plates were burgers and fries well the last was fried chicken smothered in gravy with mashed potatoes, peas, and a biscuit. 

You glanced at the receipt for the table number—sure enough it was Table 4. 

Out of the four officers of the group, you could easily recognize Commissioner James Gordon. The Gotham Police Station was just down the street so the diner was usually packed with police.

Ironically your boss was a drug dealer and he was able to sell opioids underneath the cops noses. 

You once overheard him say as he flicked through his money, "The cops are paying me—a filthy criminal!" 

You took the hot dishes over to the table and the officers eyes lit up. You set the plate down for one of the officers and set the fried chicken in front of Gordon. He always got fried chicken, you didn't care much about it but he made small talk with you and told you about how the meal reminded him of his mother's cooking.

You had smiled politely. As much as you disliked Gordon among cops in general he was at least nice enough to pay you a $20 tip every time. 

"Can I have some more coffee, darling?" One of the officers asked lifting his mug for emphasis. 

"Of course." You nodded and walked into the back kitchen. 

You pushed through the creaky swinging doors to the kitchen area. The smell of meat cooking on the griddle wafted through the air as well as the smell of biscuits being baked in the oven. You were hoping the sizzle of the burger patties on the griddle hid your footsteps. You only paused your walk to glance his way before arriving to the coffee maker. The pot was full of fresh coffee, vapors still coming from out of the pot.

You grabbed the handle and turned around to head back to the dining area. An audible gasp escaped your throat when a greasy hand grabbed your upper arm. The coffee in the pot lurched causing a few scalding hot drops to splash on your arms.

"Don't say anything to those cops." Gary hissed. 

You glanced his way out of your peripheral vision--a knife he used to stab into the burgers was aimed at you. 

"Say what?" You asked dumbly. 

"You know what I mean. Say anything and I cut your throat. Got it?" His New Jersey accent made him sound like an Al Capone wanna be. 

You pressed your tongue to your cheek in temptation. As much as you wanted to say something you knew that you couldn't. You hated this job with a burning passion but it paid the bills and jobs were hard to come by in Gotham. Not to mention the connections Jared had with the top criminals of the city would paint a bright red target on your back. 

"Got it." You finally answered. 

He let you go and returned to the griddle. The knife in his hand stabbed into a club sandwich before he set it on the window. You hurried out of the kitchen with the pot, silent as you poured the cop his coffee. 

You glanced at the clock and saw that your shift was coming to an end. 

"We better hurry back to the station, breaks almost over." One of the cops blurted. 

Gordon nodded finishing the last of his coffee, "Check please, darling." 

Sure enough Gordon gave you $20 for your work before getting up to leave. You were hurrying as you cleaned up the table and threw the dirty dishes in the sink for the bus boy to take care of. You honestly couldn't get out of the diner fast enough, throwing on your jacket and grabbing your purse and umbrella.

The second you stepped outside the wind threw heavy rain drops at your face. You squeezed your eyes shut until the wind dulled just enough to not make the drops feel like diamonds scratching your face. 

Your apartment was a 10 minute walk from the diner—usually a blessing but your thoughts were pessimistic wishing you were closer. There was a disgusting squish with every step you took from your soaked shoes. 

The sidewalks and roads were practically rivers. 

Dear god the weather was shit. 

You heard the unexpected sound of footsteps running through the puddles. Within a second you felt someone grab your arm tightly. You shrieked and quickly swung your umbrella landing a blow on a figure in a dark hood. Messy skull makeup painted a young male's face, the white and black muddling and dripping from the rain.

"Get away from me!" You shrieked as he grabbed for you again. 

"You're so pretty~! No wonder the boss wants ya," He cooed. 

"Fuck off!" You shrieked elbowing him in the gut. 

You attempted to run but another gang member came from around the corner stopping you. You shrieked as he pulled you into a choke-hold closing off your throat. His hips were pressed against your rear allowing you to feel how aroused he was from your struggle.

"Oh this one's feisty!" The man chuckled. 

"Stop it!" 

Thunder rumbled above you deafening your cries. Not as if anyone would help another citizen in Gotham City. He pulled you tighter to him as if he was trying to absorb you. A wheeze slipped from your lungs unable to breathe. 

Your legs felt weak and a thick fog was covering your sight. 

"Dude she's turning blue!" The other said with excitement. 

You were thrashing around desperately kicking your legs and scratching at his arms. 

Your lungs burned. 

Then there was the sound of fabric rustling. 

"Shit! It's the Bat!" 

The thug unexpectedly threw you but you were unable to keep yourself up. Your legs collapsed beneath you and your head hit the rough ground. 

You felt your knees sting from scraping against the concrete, the puddle of rain water beneath you only salt in the wound. 

"Fuck!" You heard shouting followed by the sounds of bones breaking. 

"Are you alright?" 

Your head felt too heavy for your neck as you lifted your head up. It took you a few seconds before a startled shriek escaped your throat. 

There was a man above you dressed as a bat?! 

He reached out to touch your head and you flinched feeling a sharp pain. 

"You have a wound on your head. If not treated immediately it can result in infection." 

You blinked deliriously. 

"Ma'am? Do you remember your name?" The hero asked. 

"(Name)." You answered. 

The bat glanced at your name tag and sure enough your name was also written there. 

"(Name), I need you to stay awake until I can get you medical help." 

"I am talking to a fuckin' giant ass bat." You mumbled, "I must be going crazy." 

The bat took your arm and draped it across his shoulders. His hand cautiously placed itself on your side before tucking his other hand under your knees. Without even a grunt of effort he was able to lift you up off the ground. Droplets of water trailed down his waterproof suit but ended up pooling in your clothing.

You blinked in confusion looking at the man's cowl. Pointed ears protruded from the top of the cowl. You were close enough to see his intelligent green eyes was accentuated from the black make-up smudged around his eyes. 

"Who are you?" You asked. 

His eyes caught yours for a moment, "I'm Batman." 

You rested your head against his shoulder feeling too nauseous to keep your eyes open. 

"(Name), stay with me," Batman barked. 

You heard a low humming noise before you were set down in a plush leather seat. Cracking open your eyes was nearly impossible as you kept them open long enough to see you were in a car. 

"You are showing symptoms of a possible concussion. Press this to the wound." 

You felt a cloth in your hand and with a bit of strength were able to press it to the area. You must've dazed off for a few seconds because you woke up to a leather hand shaking your shoulder. 

"(Name), you must stay awake! It is fatal to fall asleep with an untreated brain injury." He ordered. 

"Sorry. I'm sorry," You whimpered. 

You heard mumbling before he suddenly asked, 

"What do you do for a living?" 

Unable to grasp that he was trying to keep you conscious you answered. 

"Work at diner. I'm a waitress." 

"Got any family?"

There was a sudden lurch as you felt yourself beginning to move. 

"Why are you helping me?" It was your turn to finally ask. 

There was a long pause before he answered. 

"I want to help people. Gotham is full of crime that the police themselves can't control. I figured I could help." 

Dizziness washed over as you turned your head to look at him, "That's sweet of you...you must be a really nice guy..." 

You rolled your head back to face the road speeding past you at blinding speeds.

A realization dawned on you, "Shit...how can I afford a hospital bill? I barely even have enough to pay for rent. I can't go to the hospital just drop me off at home!" 

"You have a brain injury," The man's husky voice was more intimidating with his tone, "I'll take care of it." 

You could feel the trails of blood dripping down your neck soaking through the cloth. 

"Am I going to die...?" You whispered out loud. 

"We're almost there just hold on a little longer." 

You felt your eyes roll back. 

"(Name)!"...

Waking up, you were expecting to be in your own bed. 

Instead, you woke up in an uncomfortable hospital bed. You stretched your sore limbs as you realized tubing was connected to your arm and a heart monitor clipped onto your finger. 

"Why am I in a hospital?" You mumbled to yourself. 

When you lifted your head up from the pillow a shock of pain traveled through your skull. A short cry of pain suddenly escaped your throat from how bad your brain hurt. You raised your heavy hand to your head only to feel a bandage was covering a large area of your head. 

"What...?" 

"Oh good your awake!" A nurse walked in with a gentle smile on her face. 

"Are the lights too bright for you?"

You stared at her with confusion instead of answering, but she walked over to a switch that dimmed the lights. 

"Is this better?" She asked. 

"Uh...yeah...thanks..." You mumbled. 

"Are you a bit confused?" The nurse walked over and plucked the device off your finger shutting off the machine. 

"...yeah." 

Why was thinking so difficult for you? Why did your body feel so heavy?

"Confusion is common with a concussion," She explained, "You were brought in by a strange man--I guess he was supposed to look like a bat?" 

"I have...no recollection..." You mumbled.

"Memory loss is also common dear, you did hit your head very hard. You probably feel very sluggish and heavy right now." 

"Why a bandage...?" You were trying to point where you felt the cloth for emphasis but your fingers may as well have been ten pound weights. 

The nurse gave you a polite smile as she touched the back of your hand, "You required surgery dear, your brain had swelled so much we had to relieve some of the pressure. If it weren't for that vigilante bringing you here you could've died." 

"The man...why?" 

"Why what?" 

As hard as you tried the drugs in your system was too much to think or recall anything. You just felt tired. 

"I'll bring you back some water. Are you hungry at all?" The lady asked. 

"Yeah..." To be honest you didn't know what you were saying yes to but she seemed nice enough. 

It seemed like she left for a second but in reality it was ten minutes before she returned with a water bottle and a pudding cup. With the ease of the bed you were able to sit up to eat and drink. 

"I have good news! Your brother is on his way to pick you up, sweetheart. You're going to need supervision at home to be safe." 

At the time you were too enraptured with your pudding cup to care... 

"What the hell happened to you?" Your brother asked as you stepped in. 

"I already told you that I don't remember," You sighed throwing your purse down on the table. 

"Then what do you remember?" He asked. 

"I just... I remember walking home from work and then I was grabbed. And this man...I can't remember anything about him. I just remember I felt scared." You answered. 

"I heard a nurse telling me that a guy dressed as a bat took you to the hospital." You carefully laid down on your sofa feeling your head pound. 

"A guy dressed as a bat?" 

Your brother snorted, "Yeah I know. I know Gotham is full of deranged druggies but never heard of someone dressed as a bat." 

Your eyes glanced down at the outfit you had your brother grab for you. The paper clothing you wore was uncomfortable as hell in the hospital. 

"Do you know what happened to my uniform?" Not as if you really cared about it, since it was the ugliest thing in your closet next to the purposely ugly sweaters. 

"Your uniform? The police took it in for evidence. Apparently you had blood on it." 

"Did they steal my journal?!" You blurted, your own loudness causing your head to hurt. 

"Don't tell me your brown nosing, (Name)." Your brother sighed. 

"It's not brown nosing I'm journaling." 

"By eavesdropping on police officers and that stolen police radio. Are you still visiting crime scenes?"

You clenched your fists as you slowly stood from the couch. Your legs wobbled and shook but you ignored your brothers orders to sit back down. You stormed over to the table where your purse was carelessly thrown. 

"(Name)-" 

"I'm not interfering with the crime scene. I'm careful." 

"You pretend to be a news reporter." 

"Journalist. Reporters work for Gotham News." You sassed. 

You snatched your purse and zipped it open, an audible gasp escaped. Your brother arched an eyebrow in concern. 

"What is it?" 

You pulled out a folded stack of money. 

"This isn't...mine?" You dug around your purse but your keys and wallet were indeed in here. Your journal was in here too with the notes you took from the cops at the diner. 

"Where did this money come from?" 

"Is that from the anonymous donor?" The man mumbled. 

"Anonymous donor?" 

"Yeah. Someone paid for your hospital bill. Everything! Your surgery and overnight stay included." 

"Someone paid for my surgery?!" You yelped. 

"All in money too. They didn't want to be tracked apparently." 

"But who would...who could have the money to pay for my brain surgery...?" You muttered.

"Which one of the rich Gotham snobs would have enough of a moral compass to pay for someone else's hospital cost?" Your brother snorted. 

Flipping through the money you found you had $500 worth of $20's. 

"Do you have a secret admirer or something?" Your brother asked. 

His wording may have sounded teasing but he actually meant it in pure curiosity. 

"Not that I know of..." 

"Damn. Maybe it was the crazy dude?" 

"The bat guy?" You asked. 

He nodded, "Drug money probably." 

You sighed and set your purse back down on the table with the money. 

"This is too much for me right now. I'm going to bed." You sighed. 

"I'll sleep in the guest room." Your brother nodded. 

You had to lean on the wall to walk the awfully long distance to your bedroom. When you arrived you didn't bother changing out of your clothes—your brothers choice of clothes were comfy anyways. 

You carefully crawled into bed and laid there. 

Your brain ached as you struggled to remember anything at all. But the more you forced yourself to remember the more your head began to hurt. 

The identity of the bat guy would have to wait for now...


	2. Chapter 2

The next day was absolute torture. 

You couldn't do much of anything except lay down or sleep. And even then sleeping was hard when your sleep schedule was all over the place. 

The pain meds at least made things more interesting. Unless you wanted to deal with excruciating migraine pain you had to take them. 

The warnings however included lack of judgement and confusion which highly recommended supervision. 

Unfortunately you didn't have any supervision at the time as your brother had an emergency call from work. He would only be gone for half an hour, but a lot could happen in that time. 

Such as your lack of better decision to go take a walk to the local market shop. It was later in the day, nearly dusk so you were intolerable after the day. Well wrestling to put on your shoes you stumbled several times but were able to put them on. 

You slipped in a coat with a hood to cover the bandage on your head. Your brother made sure to clean the staples every night and watch for signs of infection. 

He wouldn't let you see what it looked like but he did warn you that they had to shave the side of your head to operate. You flipped up the hood to cover your bandaging—you didn't want anyone staring. 

You also made sure to grab sunglasses just in case before going outside...

The hustle and bustle of the city was 24/7, even during the later night times. As you stepped out from your apartment building you were attacked with noise.

Cars honking. 

Bells chiming. 

A child crying. 

Business men talking to their phones. 

You felt nauseous from the overstimulation. 

It was all so much louder. 

You couldn't walk very well, instead you were stumbling around having to rely on the walls. You could feel your brain throb but the pain wasn't present. 

You at last arrived to the market and with a bit of struggle were able to throw open the door. Inside, there was a few people scattered about in random aisles. 

It was a small family owned shop selling gas station-like items but better quality. You head over to the snack section grabbing some junk food to drown your sorrows in. 

You also grabbed a couple bottles of Mountain Dew knowing your brother's addiction to it. You reached in to grab a bottle when you noticed a man standing beside you. 

He looked to be high class judging by his business suit. He was talking into his latest, expensive phone rather obnoxiously. 

"No! Charles! You don't understand! I need champagne at the party! Bruce Wayne is going to be showing up I need this party to be perfect." 

His shouting was causing your inner ears to ache like as if you heard a loud screeching noise. He stopped at the glass door beside you and reached in to grab one of the Starbucks coffees. 

That's when you noticed something odd on his wrist—a tattoo of an owl. You could've sworn you've seen that familiar symbol before somewhere. You squinted struggling to wrack your doped brain but nothing came out. 

He slapped the door shut and you winced. 

"Did you hear me? Fucking Bruce Wayne Charles, make it work-!" 

You gasped as he bumped into your shoulder walking past you. He stopped to give you a glare as if you were a key scratch on his Mercedes. 

As if it was your fault. 

You stared back at him deadpanned, what was he expecting an apology from you? 

He huffed and continued onwards letting you be as he hurried over to the register to pay. 

You wrapped up your shopping with a couple bags of gummy bears just because you felt like it. When you went to pay you felt around your purse for your wallet, but instead you were reminded of the $500 you had carelessly tossed back in last night. 

You paused and instead peeled a twenty dollar bill out and gave it to the lady behind the counter. 

Why were you such an idiot? 

You should've left most of that money at home so in case you get robbed you wouldn't lose the entire $500. You were just too tired last night to care all too much. 

When you were passing by an alley way you stopped noticing a homeless man was sitting on the street feeding a cat a can of tuna. 

You knew him--Rafael was a regular at the diner. You would slip him some of the tuna and left overs of uneaten dinners to make sure he could feed the stray cats amongst himself. 

He was a kind, gentle, old soul who preferred to live on the streets in a tent than in a home. You constantly questioned why but he claimed it was the freedom of not having anything chain you down. 

"Rafael!" You called. 

The man turned to you, his face always had grey whiskers and wrinkles, but his smile was so warm. 

"Ah! (Name)!" 

"Anything new?" You slipped out a pack of the gummy bears from your bag. 

"This news is going to cost you more than that, darling." He chuckled. 

"News?" 

"Yeah. Word is there's some guy going around fighting crime. Doin' hell of a lot better than the police!" 

You slipped out one of your king sized candy bars. He accepted the candy bar with a gracious smile. He gestured to a milk crate across from you but when you went to sit down you more fell than sat. 

"'s everythin' alright?" 

"I'm fine. Tell me more?" You plucked out your notepad and pen but as you looked down at your previous writing you saw it caused pressure on the back of your eyes. 

"I saw 'im a few days ago—a caped crusader!" 

"Caped crusader?" You repeated. 

"Dur—a hero. A vig-vigel-?" 

"Vigilante?" 

"Yes! Here's the weird thing! He leaned forward as he whispered, "He looked like a bat!" 

Your eyes widened. 

"You should've seen that sucker fight!Robber had a gal at gun point just down 'ere. This guy dropped down from the top of the building and one-two'd the bastard! Broken bones!" 

You frantically wrote that down on your note pad. Your hand writing was horribly messy but it was readable enough. 

"Police showed up an' the robber was taken to the hospital for broken bones. Bastard couldn't limp away for nuthin'!" He laughed and slapped his knee. 

His slap sending dust from his pants flying. 

"Did you see what he looked like?" 

Rafael shook his head, "Darlin' his identity was wrapped tight. He was dark as night. Maybe had armor on 'im?" 

"Darn." You muttered. 

"I always says this but don't ya think you're getting too deep into this?" 

"Hm?" 

Rafael gave you a pitiful look, "(Name), swim any deeper in the ocean and ya'll drown. I don't wanta see a pretty gal like ya self on a missing flyer. Journalism in Gotham is dangerous ya know." 

You sighed and stuffed your note book and pen back into your purse, "I know." 

You added, "But the people should know about the corruption going on. Because of me the Mayor's affair rumor went viral. The truth of the corruption in the politics of Gotham need to be shown!" 

"Darlin' ya don't know what you're gettin' yourself into. The Court of Owls won't appreciate your digging." 

"Or else they'll dig their talons into me. I know, I remember that creepy nursery rhyme." You slowly stood from the crate having to use the wall. 

"Don't get yourself killed." 

You smiled politely, "I won't."...

The way back home your head was positively pounding with pain. The meds had worn off at last and the pain came to slap you in the face. Your stomach churned from how dizzy you were, the side walk lights blinding. 

It has gotten rather dark quick due to the storm clouds coating the sky. You finally stopped for a second to sit down at a bench until the dizzy spell passed just long enough. 

Your brother was probably nearly home by now. He would freak if he discovered you had done something so stupid as go for a walk in your condition. 

"What are you doing out here?" 

Shivers traveled down your spine. You picked your head up and discovered a figure standing in the shadows. 

Your heart leapt. 

Fuck! You really should've grabbed some pepper spray well you were at the store! 

You tried to stand up but instead you clumsily fell onto your rear. The figure stepped out of the shadows revealing it was the vigilante. 

"You should be home, resting." He said, his husky voice sending chills down your spine. 

"I...I know but I wanted to go for a walk." You tried to stand up only to discover your balance was still horrible. 

The man offered his gloved hand out to you. 

"I don't..." Any complaint died on your tongue. 

He had rescued you, he knew you had a concussion and was just trying to be polite and offer his service. As much as you hated relying on others for aid it was needed right now. 

You placed your hand in his, cold and rough leather against your palm. With no effort he easily pulled you up to stand holding onto your hand until your wobbling legs had settled. 

"You're the vigilante..." You muttered. 

An idea hit and you reached into your bag pulling out your pen and notepad. 

"Please, may I interview you Mr.-?" 

"You shouldn't be outside Mrs. (Last Name)." He said.

"How do you know my name?" You took a step back. 

"You want to become a journalist," He added, "You have information no civilian should know."

The blood drained from your face. Your voice was quiet with fear, "Are you going to turn me in?" 

"You should become a journalist, you don't shy away from the dirty work." 

You were stunned into silence. 

"Stay inside and rest. Brain injuries are not something to mess with." He turned around and stepped back into the shadow of the alley way. 

"Wait! What's your vigilante name!" You called. 

"Batman." 

You heard a hiss of a cable before the silence of the city. 

"Batman...? Really? Kinda lame but okay..."...


End file.
